Indentured
by paxnirvana
Summary: I am posting this to my account for a new fanfic author: Marram. Summary: Kentaro owes Haruka for the damage done to the Hot Springs Teahouse...
1. Part 1

INDENTURED by MARRAM 
    
    
    Rating: R
    Fandom: Love Hina
    Characters: Haruka, Kentaro
    Date: 7/5/03
    Archive: No. 

Author's Note: A new fanfic writer. Constructive feedback on style and content welcome. Flames used to light fireworks. 

PLEASE NOTE: Apologies to those waiting for a 'paxnirvana' story. This story was written by MARRAM, a friend of mine who is just testing the waters of fanfic and wanted me to post for exposure. 

Disclaimer: Series belongs to Ken Akamatsu and his various publishers. No intent to profit. 

* * * * *

Am I afraid of her? wondered Kentaro as he pushed the scrub brush back and forth across the kitchen floor of the teahouse. Something in him demanded to know why he reacted so strongly to Haruka, why her emotionless gaze sent a disorganizing flutter through his nerves. Fear of Haruka? 

He plunged the brush into the bucket of dingy water. He wanted to get up off of his knees and say he'd had enough. He wanted to go get some lunch and maybe see a movie. He snatched the brush from the bucket instead, obediently responding to the sound of Haruka, her slippers lightly scuffing along the floor as she approached the kitchen. The brush moved with vigor. 

He listened until the sound of walking stopped, lifting his gaze only enough to confirm Haruka's presence in the kitchen, her feet resting in a pair of thick soled green slippers. "You're not done," she blandly said, slowly walking over to him, one step after the other, until her feet were just beyond the line of soapy wetness. The brush stopped moving. 

He stared up at her, his heart suddenly hammering away in the realization that Haruka was very real, more than the most vivid fantasy, in a situation he didn't know the limits of, and there was no way out from here. The damage he'd done to the hot springs house set him upon this path, his lack of ready cash sealing his fate. 

_You owe me,_ she'd told him. 

His position wasn't one that allowed even the most rudimentary forms of bargaining. He'd agreed, what else could he do? 

_Maybe I could work it off?_ he'd asked. _I could rebuild the floor._

_You owe me a lot more than that. _

I'll do whatever you want me to, he'd told her. 

_Anything? _

Anything. 

Without arguments? 

Without arguments. 

For as long as I say, she'd carefully added, not wording it as a question. _Until I say you've paid off the debt._

Until she said. 

At minimum wage he should have worked the debt off more than a week ago, but such was not the case. When he'd brought the point up to Haruka she'd informed him that he was only making one dollar and fifty cents an hour towards the cost of the repairs. Far from having paid his dues he now found himself less than a third of the way through the debt, indentured to an intimidating task fanatic. 

"You're not going to get to half of the work I have for you today." She slipped her hand into a pocket of her shorts and withdrew her lighter, opening it with a practiced flip of the wrist. She brought the flame to the cigarette dripping from the corner of her mouth. 

Her smoldering gaze liquefied his spine. 

Haruka was in her habitual garb, today's variation coming in the form of a black shirt and white shorts. The weather had warmed enough for no stockings, and despite the fact that he was doing the work she also wore her Hinata Springs apron, somehow intimidating the hell out of him. 

"I'm not pleased." She took a long drag from her cigarette, letting the smoke find its own way out of her mouth. 

The weather was also warm enough that his clothes had been ordered off of his body. Below the line of her apron only her feet were allowed any form of cover, fuzzy green material over thick rubber soles. 

"I'm sorry about that," he said, lowering his head, feeling lightly terrified and unaccountably ashamed. He then watched as if from a slow dream as one of her feet then moved, felt the touch of the slipper as it came to rest on his free hand, suffering the sharp sensation as she stepped down. 

"You've forgotten our agreement." 

_Our agreement?_ His mind raced. It was hard to think. It was harder to breathe. His heart redoubled its efforts and her foot did slow, disturbing things that made his hand too sensitive, dancing a knife-edge between pleasure and intense discomfort. He set his mind loose and let it scamper off to where it was needed, knowing he was not in control of himself anymore. Then it came to him. 

"I'm sorry, _Mistress Haruka,_" he carefully told her, recent dictates washing up on the shoreline of his mind. "It won't happen again." 

"You'd better watch yourself. I won't be so understanding if it does happen again." 

He was quite aware that her foot hadn't moved and not one ounce of pressure had eased, the ribbed sole of the slipper biting him, her weight making demands of him, expecting more from him. 

"Yes, Mistress Haruka." He brought his head down further so his lips might press against the top of her foot. Dammit, he thought. On top of everything she smelled wonderful. His body quivered inexplicable. He relocated his lips and pressed them again with more care, then a third time nearly employing passion. 

Haruka jerked her foot up, kicking his nose and causing him to bite his lip. 

"Sit up." 

Kentaro tried to organize his thoughts, losing all of them upon making eye contact. The chill of her gaze went right through to his newly softened bones. Everything seemed unreal as he watched her take the cigarette from her lips and lower it to him. 

"Open." 

She doesn't really expect me to smoke the rest of it, does she? 

The violence of her blow hadn't even given him the chance to feel the pain, not at first. His head had snapped ninety degrees to the side, stabbing points of white light swimming lazy-crazy through his vision. Then the ice-pick pain flowered within his cheek and the dying remnants of the slap echoed within the kitchen. His vision watered involuntarily. 

"Open your mouth." 

Yes, Mistress Haruka, he thought, his mouth silently opening as his head tested its ability to face forward again. He was fearful of another slap for not speaking, unable to retreat an inch. 

"Stick out your tongue." 

What she wanted was now plain. And as if hypnotized, he tamely extended his tongue, tilting his head back slightly, awaiting the disgusting communion from his cruel goddess. He watched her tap the ashes free with a bitter, ugly satisfaction, scared of what he was willing to let her do, twice scared by the fact that he enjoyed this treatment from her. He remained as still as a statue when she stood straight, her cigarette returned to its customary resting place, the slightest smile framing it. 

"You can close your mouth now." 

He wanted desperately to throw-up, but swallowed heavily instead, idolizing her implacability and how deeply his self-worth sank under the influence of it. 

"And your little stunt is going to cost you too," she said, her expression changing seasons. "None of today's work is going to count against your debt." 

"Yes, Mistress," he submissively replied, speaking before her words had fully sunk in, responding because her training told him he had to. "Thank you, Mistress." A self-worth crash dive. 

The stub of her cigarette dropped into his bucket, extinguishing with a tiny hiss. 

"Despite how I might feel about treating you this way, we both know you deserve it," said Haruka, extending her leg and touching the toe of her slipper against Kentaro's swollen erection. "And we both know it's exactly how you want me to treat you." 

"Yes, Mistress Haruka." 

"And before you pay off your debt, assuming I let you pay off your debt, we're going to see just how much more you can take from me." 

"I'll do whatever you want me to, Mistress," he said. "That was the agreement." 

Until she said. 

"For now I want you to finish my floor," said Haruka somewhat blandly. Before he could reply she turned and was striding from the kitchen, slippers rhythmically scuffing against the floor, returning back the way she'd come. 

"Yes, Mistress," he quietly replied. 

"And you'd better make it shine," she warned him from down the hallway. 

And so he set in anew, attempting to fulfill the demand, already hoping his best effort won't be good enough, forcing yet another episode of exquisite torture. 

- - fin - -


	2. Part 2

Indentured - Part 2 

by Marram

*

"There you are," said Haruka, letting herself into the Hinata House. "You know you've got work you're suppose to be doing for me." 

"You can't be serious," said Kentaro, looking up from the television he was watching. He'd become a bit of a regular figure around the place, managing to do so without upsetting the girls. "You've got to give me a day off once in awhile." 

"What in the world makes you think you deserve a day off?" she asked blandly. 

It had quickly become a ritual, Haruka cracking the whip without the actual aid of a whip, managing to intimidate the hell out of him while wearing her teahouse apron. It was the kind of absolute control Stromboli always wished he'd had over Pinocchio, only more so. Kentaro did everything he could to avoid the pitfall of submission she'd laid out before him. 

"I'm exhausted..." 

"You can rest once you've worked off your debt." 

"That's illegal..." 

"Is it?" said Haruka, not looking at all surprised. "Guess you'd better call the police and press charges. 

Kentaro said nothing, but suddenly looked uncomfortable. 

"Or better yet, I'll call," she continued, stepping out of her sandals and into some house slippers, walking over to Kentaro. "It'll give me a chance to ask what I should do when someone drives a tunneling vehicle up through the floor of a building." 

Kentaro's gaze shifted away from hers, finding the TV again. 

"No?" she asked. "You don't want me to call?" 

He didn't respond. 

"Now that that's settled, the teahouse floors need scrubbing again." 

"This is slavery, you know," he said testily, not looking up. 

"You say that as though it were a bad thing." 

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" 

"I'd rather hoped we both were, but if I have to be the only one, then I'm the only one," she said. "And now that you know you're back on duty, I want you to refer to me as Mistress Haruka again. That way, neither one of us will get confused about our place in this relationship." 

"So, just how much of the debt have I worked off?" he asked, doing his best to avoid what she'd just said. 

"Not quite half." 

If she hadn't been watching when she answered, she could very easily have missed his reaction. It was instant and subtle, as though his body had found a way of settling deeper into the couch. She'd managed to crush him, doing so without even trying. She decided she'd have to try more in the future. 

"I've also decided to include an incentive plan into your hourly wages," she continued, moving to stand between Kentaro and the TV. His eyes never lifted from her feet. 

"Incentive plan?" he asked suspiciously. 

"Yes," she said. "Every time you do something I approve of, I'll raise your rate by a nickel. And every time you do something I disapprove of, I'll drop your rate by a dime." 

"That doesn't seem very fair." 

"No it isn't," she agreed. "But that's the way it's going to be." 

"Great..." 

"I guess you really must enjoy working for me," she said blandly, staring coldly at Kentaro. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be throwing your hourly rate away like this." 

"What?" he said, startled. He was now scanning her face for any sign of humor, finding only her spine-softening glare. 

"You're already down to a dollar ten per hour and sinking," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "You might want to try and reverse that." 

"What?!" he asked in surprise, nearly rising from the couch. "What have I been doing wrong?" 

Haruka's backhand had been so quick and powerful that Kentaro only realized what had happened when the side of his face hit the floor. 

"For starters, I told you to call me Mistress Haruka," she said, lifting her slippered foot and stomping it onto the upturned side of his face. "Didn't I?" 

Kentaro struggled fruitlessly and complained inarticulately as she ground her foot back and forth. The more he struggled, the more she added weight to her oppressive foot. Eventually he got the idea and went limp -- at least as limp as he could manage. 

"Didn't I?" she asked again, lifting her foot from his face. Her voice hadn't changed once from its perpetually bland and relaxed tone, despite what she'd been doing. Somehow that terrified him even more. 

"Yes, Mistress Haruka!" blurted Kentaro, a shielding hand caressing the pronounced imprint on the side of his face. 

"Is that all you have to say for yourself?" 

He showed every sign of wanting to argue the point on some level, but held his tongue, his pain and frustration openly visible. Then slowly, Kentaro's body relaxed and settled under the weight of his dejected resignation. 

"I'm sorry, Mistress," he quietly added. 

"That's better," she said. "And are you interested in trying to make it up to me?" 

The reason for her incentive plan was now coming clear. Having slave labor wasn't enough, apparently. Haruka wanted extras from him and she was going to see to it that she got them. She truly enjoyed treating him this way. The prospect sent a spark of anxious excitement flashing through his mind, leaving a sense of pathetic self-loathing in its wake. 

Kentaro gradually lifted himself to his hands and knees. He then kissed Haruka's slippered feet without hesitation. And despite how the utter humiliation infuriated him, it also thrilled something deep within his mind. He was learning to truly enjoy her treatment of him as well. 

"How can I make it up to you, Mistress?" 

"You can start by getting to your work," she said. "But first, lose the clothes, you won't need them today." 

She took a seat and crossed her legs, producing a cigarette and lighting it. She then settled back to enjoy whatever show-value Kentaro had to offer. She watched dispassionately as the first layer of clothes was slowly and awkwardly peeled from Kentaro's body. 

"And don't be all day about it." 

Kentaro momentarily wondered if dealing with the police might not be a better idea. 

*

The journey across the front courtyard could not possibly have been a more open spectacle, suffering the prominence of broad daylight. Without a doubt, no distance had felt greater than the fifteen meters that separated the Hinata House front door from the stairway leading to the teahouse. Kentaro couldn't tell if anyone was watching as he and Haruka crossed the space. If there were any witnesses, they were currently silent ones. Then there was the stairway itself. 

Kentaro was able to count forty-seven steps in all. It was Haruka who had made such a careful count of the stairs possible. She had slowly and deliberately descended the steps, preventing Kentaro from going any faster than she was. She held him in check with an iron-grip on his erection. He was her prisoner in-tow, his arms filled with his recently removed clothes. 

Once she'd let them both into the back of teahouse, she released Kentaro and regarded him with a cold stare. 

"Now, that should be enough on the subject of arguing when I have work for you," she said. "Unless you enjoy parading around in the open that way." 

"No, Mistress," he quickly replied, silently vowing that he wouldn't forget her title ever again. Her demonstrations were definitely hitting the mark with him. 

"Really?" she said, a slim smile slicing across her face. His response had amused her, or given her inspiration. She ran a finger along his swollen and begging erection. "Maybe that wasn't enough on the subject." 

"It was, Mistress," he said. "Truly." 

Haruka pointed to a small cabinet. "Put your clothes in there," she told him, ignoring his assurances. 

"Yes, Mistress." 

*

"It's something you didn't get to last time," said Haruka in an uninterested tone. "Down under there." She pointed a slippered foot toward the large oven. It sat up on metal post legs, about five inches above the tiled floor. "And I want you to do under the prep tables, too." 

"Yes, Mistress," said Kentaro, setting down his bucket of soapy water and kneeling for a closer look. What he found could have been worse, but not by a whole lot. Covering the tiles was a glue-like sludge of grease and every kind of dirt imaginable. This wasn't going to be easy. But he'd said he would do whatever she wanted him to, until she said he'd paid off the debt. 

Until she said. 

When he looked back he found his Mistress leaning against the refrigerator, taking slow drags from her cigarette. She said nothing, only staring at him with her withering glare. Knowing that any and all delays could literally cost him, he grabbed the large scrub brush from the bucket and got mucked-in. 

Haruka continued to watch him, apparently satisfied with her circumstance. She had a naked man on his knees, straining to clean up her messes. She gazed hypnotically at the slight piston movement of Kentaro's ass as he rhythmically scrubbed at the tiles. A slim smile sliced across her face again. 

Kentaro's attention was drawn as a cigarette dropped to the floor. Haruka's foot then carefully moved over and snubbed it out. Curiosity pulled him around so he could better see his Mistress. She currently had her hands under her apron, making a little adjustment. As she brought her hands back out he could hear a slight hissing noise, like something rubbing against fabric. He could then see she was pulling her belt free from around her waist. 

"Mistress?" he said, slightly alarmed. "Did I do something wrong?" 

"No," she said blandly, folding the leather strap in half. "Just stay still." 

"But, Mistress," he stammered, "why?" 

"Because I want to," she told him, slowly walking over next to him. "Just because I want to." 

Kentaro's flinched severely when Haruka fondled his ass with her free hand, thumping his head into the oven door. She didn't seem to notice as she casually caressed each cheek. 

"Not to worry," she said, standing and drawing back her belt. "Your hourly rate is about to go up a nickel..." 

- - end - -


End file.
